


The Unlucky Ones

by neytah



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cutting, Death of Original Characters, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman, and angsty stuff, and kissy stuff, but cute parts, evernathy, no sexy times sorry, side gale/prim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 10:04:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1158323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neytah/pseuds/neytah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I know, I know! You’re you, and I’m me, so why would I want to kiss you? I’m young, I’m supposed to still being pining over my long lost love, or kissing some cute boy my age back in the district. But I’m broken Haymitch, you don’t have to worry about corrupting me, anything innocent about me is already gone. I’ve killed people, Haymitch, and I have to live with that. And you’re the only one who really understands."</p><p>AU in which Peeta dies at the end of the 74th and Katniss is the sole victor</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unlucky Ones

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: story includes alcoholism, self harm, and a relationship with a significant age difference. If any of these things are triggering or squicky for you, I suggest you not read this :( you have been warned

“So Katniss, now I’m going to touch on the hard stuff, if you don’t mind. You, found Peeta on his deathbed, nursed him back to health, only to watch him die. Please take us inside your head—inside your heart—when Peeta fell off the Cornucopia.”

The lights are blinding as they shine down from all angles on her and Caesar. She can barely see the audience, only bright silhouettes. Her eyes trace across the crowd, hoping for a familiar face, but the blinding lights make it impossible. She turns back to Caesar, thinking back to Effie’s notes.

“It’s indescribable. One second he’s alive, next he’s…” Katniss swallows the lump in her throat and forces herself to continue. “You can’t help thinking what you did wrong. That maybe, if I’d done something different… he’d be here next to me.”

Effie later tells he how perfect she was, how she pulled on the heartstrings of every capitol citizen. But all she feels is numb. The bright lights bleaching her skin, the thousands of eyes glued to her. And all she can think of is his screams.

***

Everyone hopes she can heal, as other victors have. She moves into the victor’s village with Prim and her mother, she puts on a smile for them, pretends she’s healing faster than she is. As the days pass, the deaths of her fellow tributes slowly, but surely, soften in her mind.

But the capitol never leaves her alone long enough to truly recover.

The victory tour creeps up on her. It comes into her slowly rebuilding world and shakes it again, reawakening her darkest memories, recreating any damage that might’ve healed.

No matter how fast she runs, she can’t escape her nightmares.

District after district, Katniss comes face to face to the family and friends of the fallen tributes, those who died so she could live. It’s after their stop at District 7, Haymitch finds her in her room on the train, a half empty bottle of whiskey in her hand, her lifeless eyes trained ahead.

“I get it now.” She tells him, “I used to think you were just the town drunk, but I get it now. It’s just too painful not to.” She takes another swig, and Haymitch can’t find the heart to take it from her. He leaves her alone in her room, letting the alcohol drown her nightmares.

***

Haymitch watches in the weeks between the victory tour and the next reaping, as the bottles begin to pile up on the Everdeen porch.

The day of the reaping, he has to practically drag a hungover Katniss to the stage. She watches with glassy eyes as Effie draws the names for the 3rd Quarter Quell. This year, it’s only the names of 17-year-olds in the bowl, a game of only the oldest, most mature killers. The tributes: Aneia Prinim and Georsh Karlae. Haymitch expects to see some reaction from Katniss, but her expression is blank, her eyes filled with the pain will come every year.

They both know those kids will likely die in that arena.

***

Last year, Katniss despised Haymitch’s lack of interest in mentoring. But now, she can barely bring herself to sit across from these kids, her own age, knowing they will likely die. She, like Haymitch nurses a drink while Effie does all the talking.

She wanders about the train like a zombie, avoiding interaction with Aneia and Georsh, a drink always in her hand. As they approach the capitol, Haymitch finds her in her room, fallen asleep, and empty bottle sitting on her nightstand.

When they arrive at the capitol, Aneia and Georsh get shipped off to Cinna and his assistants. Soon enough it’s the parade. Being the newest mentor, several cameras are trained on her, capturing her reaction. She maintains her blank expression, hiding the broken child inside.

***

Haymitch does most of the mentoring, leaving Katniss to herself. He still remembers his first year after the 50th. But then, he was alone, the sole victor and mentor for District 12. He hopes he can make this easier for her, taking the weight off he shoulders. But, then again, there’s little he can do. You never really recover after your Hunger Games.

Aneia gets a 5 in training, Georsh gets a 6. Still, they both die in the Cornucopia bloodbath.

They’re in a viewing room with the other mentors, and she receives several pats on the back and ‘sorry’s from her fellow victors. Her expression remains blank, but her hand is in Haymitch’s, squeezing as hard as she can. After the bloodbath is over, Katniss calmly stands and leaves,

Haymitch finds her in her room, sitting on the edge of her bed, a bottle in her hand. Her eyes are puffy, and runny eyeliner stains her cheeks. She’s been crying.

“They’re the lucky ones, aren’t they?” She says. “Aneia, Georsh, Rue… Peeta. But I get to survive…” Her eyes are watering, her grip tightening around the neck of the bottle.

Haymitch walks across the room and sits next to her. He takes the bottle from her (“Hey!”) and caps it.

“I want you to take this bottle, and throw it against the wall.”

“What?!”

“Just imagine all your anger, all your sadness, think about how much you hate Snow, how much you wish you could’ve saved those kids—and pretend it’s all in this bottle. Then throw it.”

He extends the bottle to Katniss, who after a moment’s hesitation, takes it. She holds it in her hands, rolling it from one hand to the other. For a moment, Haymitch is not sure she’ll do it, but then the bottle is flying across the room, shattering against the far wall, drenching it with whiskey.

Katniss is shaking. Tears roll from her eyes.

“How do you do it, Haymitch?” She says. “I try to stay strong for Prim, for Mom but..” the lump rising in her throat blocks her voice. All Haymitch can do is pull her in, muffling her cries in his chest. Katniss is shaking in his arms, her pent up sorrow pouring from her like a blown faucet. He holds her until the shaking stops.

Katniss looks up at Haymitch, her eyes red and swollen. Haymitch can see the hurting child hiding inside her.

“Thank you.” She murmurs.

She falls asleep in his arms.

***

By morning, half of the tributes are dead. By afternoon, Kamia, the District 2 female tribute, is crowned the winner of the 75th Hunger Games.

Finally, Katniss and Haymitch are allowed to go home.

***

Haymitch  doesn’t see Katniss leave her home for weeks. At first, he think he’s just not seeing her leave, but as the weeks progress, his worry grows. He cares about her, this young girl, as vulnerable as he was as a teenage victor. Eventually, he goes to check on her. Katniss’ mom lets him in without question.

He finds her in her room, empty bottles scattered about, a kitchen knife in her hand. She glances up at him as he enters. Her eyes are hallow, the pain inside her unimaginable.

“I  can’t go outside, Haymitch,” She says. “I can’t risk seeing those faces, knowing I couldn’t save their family, their friends. How can you ever…” she trails off, slumping over her eyes on the knife in her hand.

Haymitch is fast to move across the room, snatching the knife from her hand.

“Don’t you dare, sweeatheart! Do you have any idea what will happen if you do anything stupid? They’ll kill them! They’ll kill your family, any one you’ve ever loved!”

“You thought I was going to…” She trails off, looking away from him.

“I’m not stupid Haymitch, I know that.” She sighs, sitting up straight. Then she lifts her shirt, revealing her stomach and ribcage, littered with scars, some old and white, some new and red, a few, fresh, still dripping.

“I do them here so Prim won’t see…” Katniss says, her voice cracking. The hem of her shirt slips from her grasp, falling down to cover the scars.

In his 25 years of being a victor, Haymitch has never hated the capitol more that right now. As Katniss’ resolve crumbles, tears falling from her eyes, sobs escaping her throat, he wants to kill those responsible for breaking this girl. Katniss likes to keep a wall up, hiding the pain she’s going through, but underneath, she’s an empty husk of the girl she used to be. But all Haymitch can do is hold her in his arms, muffle her sobs in his chest, absorb her tears with his jacket. He holds her until she drifts into unconsciousness.

***

Katniss’ mother finds them both asleep on the bed, their legs dangling off the edge. Her head rests on his chest, her face the most peaceful it’s been in months. Katniss’ mom covers the pair with a spare blanket, and leaves them to their dreams.

***

Katniss wakes from the most peaceful sleep she can remember. Haymitch’s chest rises and falls beneath her, a calming effect with makes her reluctant to leave his arms. She snuggles closer and closes her eyes, wishing she could stay like this forever.

She’s not sure how long she drifts in the limbo between sleep and consciousness, her head rising and falling with his chest, the world around them forgotten. But soon, Haymitch’s body begins to squirm, shaking off the paralysis of sleep as his heavy eyes open. Katniss is looking up at him, a light in her eyes, he hasn’t seen in a long time.

“Morning, sweetheart.”

“Morning.”

Haymitch can’t remember the last time he’s seen her smile.

She sighs, pulling herself to a sitting position. Haymitch follows in suit.

“Thank you,” she says. “Not just for this, but for everything.”

Haymitch can only pull her back into his arms, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

***

In the next few weeks, Haymitch sees Katniss leaving her house a lot more. Sometimes, she catches his eyes through a window and smiles, waves. Somehow Katniss is healing again, smiling with Gale, laughing with Prim. Or maybe, she’s just getting better at hiding the pain.

He watches the leaves change. He watches the town cover with snow, only to melt again. As the reaping day approaches, Haymitch watches the happiness drain from Katniss’ face.

The boy, Ciaran, is 16. A redhead, a lean scrawny boy. Dead meat, probably. And the girl…

She’s 12. The dress she wears is stained and tattered, hanging from her shoulders like it were on a clothes hanger. The wind blows and the dress clings to her skin, showing the outline of her frail body, likely on the brink of starvation. Haymitch is afraid the wind might blow her away.

“The tributes of District 12:” Effie speaks into the microphone. “Aliadna Vanos and Ciaran Castellum.”

***

Katniss isn’t silent on the train this year, she talks to the tributes as they scarf down the food in front of them. But Haymitch knows her, and he can see the pain she hides behind her smile.

He finds her in her room later, the shards of a bottle in a pile of the floor. There is no puddle surrounding the shards. The bottle was empty when she threw it.

Katniss is just standing there, her hand in front of her, balled into a fist. Its when the first drop falls, thick and red, when he realizes what’s happening.

He’s across the room in a heartbeat, grabbing her wrist, shaking the shard of glass from her grasp.

“I can’t save her,” Katniss chokes out, her cheeks stained with tears. “She’s so young and innocent and pure and she’s going to die and that’s on me.”

“Katniss, this isn’t your fault!” Haymitch almost yells, “This is Snow, this is the capitol, this isn’t because of you.”

“But she’s still going to die.”

Haymitch finds a first aid kid, and they sit side by side on the bed as he bandages her hand.

“It’s gonna be like this every year, innit?” She says. “You get a front row seat to the deaths of children, ones you’ve spoken to, even grown to care about.”

“We can save her.”

“That’s bullshit Haymitch and you know it.”

Haymitch can’t deny her words.

"But they’re the lucky ones, aren’t they? It can just be over for them, they don’t get trapped in this inescapable cycle of sorrow and…”

Her eyes fall to her hands, now bandaged, resting in her lap. And then she looks up, staring into Haymitch’s eyes. Her bandaged hand reaches up to cup his cheek.

And then she kisses him.

Haymitch is frozen in shock, struggling to find his voice.

“Katniss—”

“I know, I know! You’re you, and I’m me, so why would I want to kiss you? I’m young, I’m supposed to still being pining over my long lost love, or kissing some cute boy my age back in the district. But I’m broken Haymitch, you don’t have to worry about corrupting me, anything innocent about me is already gone. I’ve killed people, Haymitch, and I have to live with that. And you’re the only one who really understands.”

She looks up to Haymitch, hoping for some sort of reaction, but she’s still frozen, unsure of what to say or do.

She sighs, standing abruptly.

“I’ll go see how the kids are doing.”

And then she’s gone.

***

Katniss more or less avoids Haymitch for the next few days. And honestly, he doesn’t mind. He too, is still confused by the events on the train. Surprisingly, Katniss throws herself into mentoring, particularly with Aliadna. The night before training evaluations, Haymitch sees her with Aliadna, her arm extended, holding an imaginary bow, demonstrating her technique. Aliadna is enthralled, looking at Katniss like she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to her.

She gets a seven in training. Ciaran gets a six. But there’s little time to celebrate, as the interviews are tomorrow.

They do as well as they can of course. Aliadna charms the crown with her adorableness, and Ciaran fares well too, his red locks, capturing the hearts of teenage girls. But the games begin tomorrow and a knowing silence spreads across the 12th floor. In the morning, Haymitch finds Katniss in Aliadna’s bed, the girl sleeping peacefully in Katniss’ arms.

And then, with a teary goodbye, they’re sent off to the arena.

Katniss and Haymitch are once again in the room reserved for mentors, cameras trained on them. The arena this year is a wasteland, a hot sun beating down on the tributes, surrounded by crumbling buildings. They watch the clock tick down, 5…4…3…2…

Both Aliadna and Ciaran run from the Cornucopia, as they were advised to. The cameras focus on the bloodbath the Cornucopia, so for a moment, Aliadna and Ciaran are unseen. But then, they see Aliadna, running through the crusty alleyways, a career on her tail. Haymitch hears the sharp intake of breath next to him. The career catches up to her, and in one swift movement, snaps her neck.

Haymitch turns to comfort Katniss just as the door clicks closed. She’s gone.

***

Haymitch gives her space, and stays to watch Ciaran stumble through the wasteland as darkness falls. It’s only after Ciara finds sleep in an empty drainpipe that Haymitch leaves to find her.

He opens the door to her room and his heart drops.

She’s collapsed in the middle of the room, a bottle fallen from her hand, spilling onto the floor. Several other empty bottles are nearby. He rushes to her side, quick to check her pulse. Her pulse is faint, her breaths shallow.

He half carries, half drags her to the bathroom, filling the tub with ice-cold water and sliding her in. He counts one, two, and then her eyes fly open, gasping, then twisting to vomit over the side of the tub.

Even with vomit on his shoes, Haymitch has never felt more relieved. She’s still heaving, stomach bile dripping from her lip, but she’s alive. Haymitch fills a cup with water at the sink, and offers it to her. She takes it with shaky hands, and gulps it down.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again, sweetheart.”

“What happened to me?”

“I found you passed out on the floor. Thought you were dead.”

“Sorry.” She sits up in the tub, water sloshing around her.

“Aliadna…”

“I’m sorry.”

“Ciaran?”

“He’s alive, last I saw him. Sleeping, and shaken up, but alive.”

Katniss nods.

“Can I get out, this water is freezing.”

Haymitch stands and helps Katniss to her feet. She shivers as she steps from the tub, water pooling at her feet.

“I should... change into some dry clothes.”

Katniss shuffles around Haymitch, back into the bedroom. Haymitch drains the tub, watches the water disappear. He glances at the pile of vomit festering next to the toilet, thinking for a second of cleaning it up, but in the end, leaves it for the avoxes.

Eventually, Haymitch leaves the bathroom, back into Katniss’ bedroom. He wet dress is in a pile on the floor. She’s dressed in a simple shirt and pants, sitting on the edge of her bed, her back to him, staring out at the city.

Haymitch sits down next to her. The lights of the city are as bright as ever, as they always are during the games. At Central Park, The Games are projected into the sky, watched by all the park goers. Haymitch can see a carousel, running, the children of the capitol smiling and laughing. The area is bustling with cheer, celebrating the deaths of children for sport.

“Ciaran’s dead.” Katniss says. “The careers found him. I just watched his body get drawn from the arena. At least he went quickly.”

Katniss leans into Haymitch, resting her head on his shoulder. It takes him by surprise, after days of avoidance. But her presence is familiar, comforting even, and Haymitch finds himself leaning into her, their hands finding each other’s, fingers intertwining.

Haymitch hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her in the past few days.

“Will you stay with me?” She asks.

He does.

***

Haymitch wakes up first. The sun has risen, saturating the never-sleeping city in natural light. He and Katniss are curled up underneath the covers. Her head rests on his chest, sleeping off last nights booze. In her peaceful slumber, her mask of maturity fades, showing the child inside. He can’t bring himself to leave.

He lies there with her, listening to her breathing, until her eyes flutter open.

She looks up, her eyes meeting his. A small smile forms on her lips, and she pulls him closer, burying her face in his chest.

“They’re both dead, right?” She says, “Last night wasn’t a dream.”

Haymitch nods. “They’re in a better place.”

Katniss sighs, rolling onto her stomach, resting her weight on her elbows.

“She’s gotta be in a better place. Can’t get much worse than this life.”

She’s looking at her hands, playing with the locks of hair fallen from last night’s updo. The peace is broken by a knock at the door.

“That’s probably Effie,” Katniss says, hauling herself off the bed and going to answer the door. She walks past the broken bottle and the wet dress as though they never happened.

It’s time to go home.

***

Each year since the 74th, recovering after the games gets easier. Katniss returns to her family, lets their smiles melt away the painful memories of the past week. Katniss and Haymitch rarely talk outside the games, so he’s surprised when Katniss knocks on his door one day, inviting him to dinner with her family.

It’s a turkey stew, one that Gale caught. Haymitch can’t remember the last time he had a home cooked meal. It’s delicious.

At the end of the meal, Prim brings out dessert, dark chocolate pudding topped with luscious whipped cream.

“Made from Hob chocolate and our very own Lady’s milk.” Prim announces, quite proud of herself.

“Lady’s her pet goat.” Katniss murmurs when she notices Haymitch’s confused expression.

It’s a homey meal, the first time Haymitch has ever felt like part of a family again. Katniss gets an accidental whipped cream mustache, and Prim laughs. Katniss is smiling, laughing, like he’s never seen before.

He helps the family clean up afterwards, including a few whipped cream projectiles splattered on the table. He’s about to leave, but Katniss grabs his hand, pulling him towards the back door.

“I wanna show you something.”

Out the back door, is a fenced in area. It’s new; it must’ve been built while they were at the capitol. A few turkeys run about gobbling, and a goat(Lady, he assumes) under a shelter in the corner. A simple wooden bench is built into the fence, which Katniss strolls over to and sits down on. Haymitch follows.

“Gale built this while we were away.” Katniss explains, “Prim loves it.”

“It’s nice.” He says. “Thanks for inviting me to the meal, by the way.”

“We should talk about us.”

Suddenly, the atmosphere becomes uncomfortable. Neither is very good at talking about feelings. As much as they do need to talk, about whatever…this is, between the two of them—it doesn’t make the talking any easier.

Katniss is hunched over, her elbows on her knees, her eyes on her hands. It’s now Haymitch notices the raised white lines, leftover from the night on the train. Seeing those lines takes him back to that night, when Katniss first kissed him. He finds his voice.

“You deserve better than me.”

He pauses, giving Katniss time to speak, but when she doesn’t, he continues.

“Like that boy, the one who built this pen—”

Gale’s great, but he’s…” He’s not you.

Unable to find words to express her feelings, Katniss just leans into him, her head resting on his shoulder. It’s a familiar, comforting weight. His fingers intertwine with hers, and that’s enough for now. Whatever it is between them, unexplained by words, is told in the simplicity of their gestures. Her hand in his, the ridges of her scars, brushing against his palm.

***

The next morning, Haymitch is woken by a knocking at the door. Dazed and confused, he goes to answer it. On his doorstep stands Prim, a wrapped bowl in her hands.

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

Haymitch shakes his head, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“I brought some stew, leftover from last night.” She extends the bowl towards him, and he takes it.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” He expects her to leave now, but she still stands awkwardly on his doorstep.

“Can I come in?”

“Um, it’s kind of a mess in here.”

“Oh, I know. Katniss told me.”

He’s too tired to argue with a little girl, so he reluctantly steps aside, and Prim walks in.

Prim tries to hide her surprise at the extent of the mess, but Haymitch is quite familiar with this expression of disgust.

“Sorry about the mess.”

“It’s okay,” Prim says, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Did you?” Haymitch says, perplexed.

“Katniss likes you.”

Haymitch is speechless.

“She’s not god at saying it, but I can tell. She’s happiest when she’s with you.”

“Look sweetheart, it’s complicated—”

“I don’t get it,” Prim says. “If two people like each other, why can’t they just say it. So tell her. Or show her, somehow.”  Prim stands tall, and Haymitch is amazing by her confidence in her words. Prim is growing up. He’s barely noticed it, but she is.

“I should go now. Enjoy the stew, Mr. Abernathy.”

***

Prim’s words stick in Haymitch’s mind for days. Romance has never been his strong suit, and in the past, anyone he got close to got hurt. He sees her in passing often, and when she smiles and waves, he can’t deny to himself his feelings for her.

It’s one day when he’s down at the hob, for a bit of grocery shopping. A little girl, seven, maybe, has set up a mini-booth next to her mother’s. She’s selling bundles of flowers, tied together with twine. There’s dandelions, marigolds, lilies. And small purple flowers, katniss flowers.

The girl looks scared as she approaches, as any small child would be of an unfamiliar old man. He kneels down to her level, hoping not to frighten her.

“Hello, sweetheart,” He says, “Could I have some of those?” He points to the purple flowers. She nods, scrambling to assemble the flowers and tie them together. When she’s done, she turns back to Haymitch.

“Is there something you’d like to trade for, sir?” She asks, speaking the words she’s heard her mother say hundreds of times.

Haymitch reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handful of gold coins. The girl’s eyes light up in excitement and awe.

“Is this an acceptable trade?”

She nods rapidly, she extends the flowers to Haymitch and take the coins, running over to show her mom. Her mother’s jaw drops in shock. She looks up at Haymitch, her lips mouthing ‘thank you’.

Haymitch leaves the hob with a smile on his face.

***

He leaves the bouquet on Katniss’ doorstep. Her mother finds it, brings it inside, puts it in a vase. Katniss sees it when she gets back from the woods.

“Prim, did you get these flowers?” Katniss asks.

“No, someone left them on the doorstep.”

So Katniss stands there, staring in puzzled awe at the vase. And then it hits her. Her head snaps around to look out the window, at Haymitch’s house.

The flowers are beautiful.

***

 Later that day, Katniss is out feeding the turkeys when Haymitch approaches.

“Hey sweetheart.”

She looks up.

“Hey.” She smiles. “Were you…the flowers…”

Haymitch nods, damning the blush that creeps onto his face.

Katniss throws the remaining feed at the birds and strolls over. Now only a fence separates them.

“Thank you.” She says, “They’re beautiful.”

“Well, I saw them and I thought of you.”

There’s a bit of nervous laughter. And then she’s on her tiptoes, kissing him. Haymitch brings his hands up to cup her face, and her hands cling to his shirt. It’s magical.

***

The following year is the best year Haymitch has ever had. The dinner invitations become regular, and he gets to know Prim and her mother. But as the 77th approaches, the mood changes, the sadness of the upcoming days weighing heavily on the minds of everyone. The morning of the reaping, Prim is once again dressed in her best clothes and sent off.

The first tribute is a seventeen-year-old girl, Kaylee Bender.  She goes up to the podium, her face stone cold, her blonde hair whisping about her shoulders. She stands tall and proud on Effie’s left, not showing her fear or sadness. The boy tribute, fifteen-year-old Hosiah Wisler, is tall and meek, swaying as he walks up to the stage. He’s not used to his height, likely just hit a growth spurt.

It’s quiet on the train, neither the tributes nor their mentors speaking much. Effie fills the silence with her usual babble. Katniss can’t look either of the tributes in the eyes.

They amaze the capitol at the parade. Cinna has once again outdone himself. Coal, under a lot of pressure, will turn into diamonds. And their outfits are just that: they outshine the other tributes, the lights entering the stones decorating their outfits, then refracting and shining out into the audience. The capitol won’t stop talking about them.

Then comes training.

“I can fence a bit.” Kaylee tells them. “In my neighborhood, we’d fight with sticks a lot. I was the best, a force to be reckoned with.”

Maybe, this year, they have another victor.

She gets a nine, Hosiah gets a five. Interviews go over smoothly. Then it’s the morning of the games. With a goodbye to Kaylee and Hosiah, they’re off to the arena.

Hosiah dies in the bloodbath. A career gets him with an axe, straight through the shoulder.  He screams until he passes out from blood loss. The careers laugh. It’s sick.

But Kaylee runs, runs and runs and runs until the Cornucopia is far from sight. She’s safe for now, and Haymitch is relieved, but Katniss is still tense, worried for Kaylee’s safety, and Hosiah’s screams still echoing in her ears. Her grip is tight on Haymitch’s hand.

They leave the mentor’s room an hour later, and return to their suite, only to continue to watch, praying for Kaylee’s safety. Katniss falls asleep watching, her head falling on Haymitch’s shoulder. Soon, Haymitch, too, slips into unconsciousness. When they wake, Kaylee is still alive.

A Twelve tribute has made it the final eight.

Kaylee is aligned with the female tribute from seven, Lillian. Right now, they’re hidden in a cove under a root, hiding from the bloodlust of the careers. Her sword fighting skills are useless without a sword from the Cornucopia, but Lillian has a spear, one she jacked from a dead body. By noon, there are only five left.

Lillian’s an expert tracker, so she keeps them out of the careers’ path. But this can only work for so long. To move the game along, the gamemakers dry up all the water sources. Except for one.

Soon, their canteens are empty, and Kaylee and Lillian must trek to the lake. They cautiously approach the water, and Katniss and Haymitch watch with bated breath.

There’s a career hiding in one of the trees, bow and arrow ready.

The arrow hits it’s target, goes straight through Kaylee’s throat. Katniss screams. Kaylee falls to the ground spitting blood, choking for air. Lillian spins around, her spear flying, piercing the career, who tumbles from the tree. Two cannons boom.

Lillian falls to her knees, a cry escaping her lips. Her eyes fill with anger.

She breaks the head of the arrow off and removes the arrow from Kaylee’s neck. More blood bubbles out. Lillian rolls her onto her back, closing Kaylee’s arms across the chest. Aside from the bloody neck wound, she looks like she might’ve been sleeping. Lillian leans down, pressing a gentle kiss against Kaylee’s lips. Then she stands, pressing her fingers to her lips and then raising her hand to the sky. Just as Katniss had done three years ago.

The spark has been relit.

Silent tears in her eyes, Katniss stands abruptly, walking to her room and closing the door. Haymitch follows her.

Haymitch opens the door to Katniss downing a bottle of scotch. Then she takes the bottle and throws it, as hard as she can against the wall. She sinks to the floor in tears. All Haymitch can do is hold her in his arms.

These games, they build you up, just to break you down.

***

By the end of the day, Lillian Cachot is crowned the victor of the 77th Hunger Games. Lillian tracks the last two careers, and kills them each instantly. She closes their eyes and crosses their arms before the hovercrafts come to retrieve the bodies, just like she’d done with Kaylee. There are murmurs, among capitol officials, that Snow isn’t too happy about Lillian’s actions. When rumors begin to circulate that Snow’s killed Lillian’s family, Haymitch doesn’t doubt it for a second

But Lillian’s light still shines brighter than ever.

She sits upon the Capitol stage, just as Katniss had three years ago.

“So, Lillian,” Caesar asks, “Many of us, including myself, were heartbroken when your companion, tragically died in your arms. Tell us, what was that like for you?”

“Kaylee was my friend.” Lillian says. “Even in such a dire situation, she kept hope alive. She cared for me more than anyone else in my life.” Her eyes fill with eyes, turning to speak directly into the camera lens.

“But then, she was taken from me. And I swore I would win for the both of us. I swore revenge. And I will get my revenge.”

Haymitch is amazed by the nerve of this girl. She’s exactly what they need, exactly who they need to take down the Capitol. Haymitch has heard from Finnick, Johanna, that this may be the last year of the Hunger Games. And maybe it will be.

“What is she thinking?” Katniss asks. “You’ve seen what Snow does. They’ll kill anyone she cares about.”

“They’ve already killed her family.” Haymitch says. “They’re out of bargaining chips. She has nothing to loose.”

***

When Katniss and Haymitch return to Twelve, the district is hustling and bustling with life. Hope is in the eyes of most. Rebellion is looming on the horizon.

A month after the games, a funeral is organized in the town center. A podium in memory of Kaylee and Hosiah has been erected, and people are gathering, paying their respects to the fallen tributes. It’s a peaceful protest that soon turns violent. Peacekeepers are out with their rubber bullet guns and smoke bombs. Many are injured, a few die. The Everdeen home is packed with injured, and Prim and Mrs. Everdeen are swamped, running about with medical supplies.

On the table lies Gale, Katniss at his side, Prim tending to him.

He’d been at the center of the crowd when the riot started. Stupid Idiot, Katniss calls him, but he laughs her words off, trying to hide his pain as Prim tends to the bullet wound on his abdomen. He’s lucky, Prim says. The bullet went straight through, no fragments to fish out, and it missed all major arteries. As long as there’s no infection, he should recover. Prim cleans out the wound and patches him up.

By the end of the day, most of the injured have returned to their homes, but Gale still lies on the kitchen table. He’s still good, Prim says. He’ll recover. With urging from Haymitch and her mother, Katniss finally retires to bed. Prim falls asleep next to Gale.

***

Things die down after that, for the most part. More peacekeepers are shipped in from Two, but the violent results of the last protest discourages any more acts of defiance. Gale’s wound heals, and, when deemed safe by Dr. Prim, returns to the mines. But as Lillian’s victory tour approaches, whispers of hope return to District Twelve. The citizens are split—some hate Lillian for the violence and unrest plaguing the district, but many more see her as a beacon of hope.

The capitol goes all out with peacekeepers for Lillian’s appearance: a row of them separates the public from the stage, and Lillian is escorted to the microphone by four “bodyguards.” Tension fills the air. Lillian holds the golden notecards in her hands. Haymitch doubts she’ll actually use them.

She steps forward to the microphone, and all chatter fades away.

“Hello, people of District Twelve.”

Her voice echoes through the crowd, her face projected upon several screens, seen by them all, and perhaps, the entirety of Panem.

“I’m sure some of you knew Kaylee Bender.”

A hushed murmur permeates across the crowd.

“I’m sure some of you could call her a friend, as I did. Even in her dire, our dire situation, she still carried a beacon of hope and love. She refused to let darkness enter her heart.” She pauses to swallow a lump in her throat.

“I would gladly sacrifice myself so she could be standing here instead of me. So I will do my best to create a better world in her name.” Lillian raises three fingers to her lips, and then raises them to the sky.

The peacekeepers are on her in seconds. The crowd erupts, some trying to get past the wall of peacekeepers, some mirroring Lillian salute, some trying to escape what will inevitably end in violence.

Haymitch is with the last group. He holds Katniss close to him, whom grabs for Prim, but she pushes away.

“Gale” is the last and only word on her lips before she disappears into the crowd. Katniss bolts after her.

She weaves through the crowd, trying to follow the dashing movements of Prim’s bright blonde hair. Katniss becomes more anxious the closer they get to the line of increasingly violent peacekeepers. They’ve brandished batons and are wailing mercilessly on the first few rows of the audience. Here, Katniss finds Prim kneeling on the ground, Gale’s head in her lap. Katniss’ heart drops.

She runs to Prim. The crowd has dissipated, and the peacekeepers have backed off, content with the damage they’ve done. But Gale still lies, unconscious on the ground, blood dripping from the blow to his head. Prim’s eyes are overflowing with tears as she cradles Gale’s head in her hands.

“Help me, Katniss!” Prim says through tears. “Please, I can’t let him die, I can’t, Katniss…” Prim is beside herself, bawling. With the help of Haymitch, they transport Gale back to their house.

Katniss stays back as Prim and her mom work their magic. Prim is still a bit of an emotional mess, but she manages to keep a level head as they treat Gale’s head wound.

He wakes about a half hour later, with a spitting headache. One of the peacekeepers knocked him over the head with a baton, but Mrs. Everdeen thinks he’ll be okay. Prim is overjoyed. His family comes to visit, make sure he’s okay, but Mrs. Everdeen insists on him staying overnight, in case it worsens.

The 78th reaping approaches.

***

Katniss stays with Haymitch the night before the reaping, sharing his stash of booze. They’ve crawled into his bed; she’s nestled under his arm, a drink in both their hands, more within easy reach.

“D’ya think it’ll ever end?” Katniss asks, taking another swig. “Will we still be like this decades from now, drinking out pain away before going out’n watching kids get slaughtered?”

“I hope not, sweetheart” is the only answer Haymitch can muster. There have been several attempts to overthrow the capitol in Haymitch’s years, but always, at some point, things die out. Why should this be any different?

He hopes this will end in Katniss’ lifetime. That someday, she will be about to have a life not plagued by sorrow. He hopes and prays she will not become the old, broken drunk her turned out to be. But for now, all he can do is hold her close and protect her from the nightmares.

“Kiss me?” Katniss asks.

He does.

***

Katniss and Haymitch sit upon the stage. Effie is giving her usual cheery welcome to the blank faces of children hoping that it wasn’t them doomed to die this year. Effie walks over to the girls’ bowl, reaches in, twirling about her manicured fingernails and picking a slip. She struts back over to the microphone, her words echoing crisp and pristine across the crowd.

"Estia Bender."

Kaylee’s sister.

Haymitch had said the Capitol had run out of bargaining chips to control Lillian. He was wrong.

Estia is only twelve, and practically a miniature version of Kaylee, except meek and small, stumbling up to the stage, tears pooling in her eyes. Haymitch has to grip Katniss’ arm to stop her from running to hug the poor girl. Effie draws from the boy’s bowl. She clears her throat and announces the name.

Rory Hawthorne.

"No..."

Haymitch has to give Snow credit where credit is due. He sure knows how to snuff any chance at a rebellion. Tame the second spark with Estia. Keep Katniss in check with Rory hostage. Haymitch is beginning to think Katniss’ vision of their future might come true.

***

Katniss is quick to go to Rory once they’re on the train, and Haymitch isn’t surprised. He knows she’ll do everything in her power to save that boy. But Estia reminds them both so much of the kind, confident girl that sad in her same spot just a year ago. Haymitch hopes he can save them both, but then again, last time he tried that it ended with bloodshed and broken hearts.

They arrive at the capitol, and Rory and Estia as put in the good hands of Cinna and Portia. There is much talk among the mentors, and Johanna quickly pulls Haymitch aside. He’d known there’d be an attempt at rebellion, but he was still a bit surprised how widespread and planned out it was. Johanna tells him all he needs to know to be safe when things hit the fan, but under one condition—don’t tell Katniss. She’ll be safe, just as he will be, hopefully, but she can’t know before its time to be swept off to whatever safe haven they’re planning on whisking them off to. Haymitch trusts Johanna that he’ll be safe. That Katniss will be safe. And as much as he’d like to tell her, he won’t jeopardize her future safety. He agrees to Johanna’s terms.

The tribute parade is a bombshell. Estia, Rory, and several other tributes: the ones from Seven, Four, Three, and Eleven—exit the tunnel, out onto the runway, with their eyes closed and their arms across their chest, mimicking Lillian’s respect for the dead in last year’s games. And for the first time, Haymitch is certain. This will be the last games.

At least he truly, truly hopes so.

***

Estia is filled with a new energy. She has hope, something few 12-year-old tributes have. A clear alliance with Three, Four, Seven, and Eleven is hope enough, but if things go to plan, they can all survive. Things could very well go wrong, but she has a much better chance at getting out alive than her sister, than any Twelve tribute, ever has.

Estia finds a passion at the camouflage station, and soon adopts it as her primary skill. Rory excels at plant identification, and several of their ally tributes are skilled fighters. What is dangerously being called Kaylee’s Alliance is becoming a force to be reckoned with.

Rory and Estia both score and eight in evaluation. The other tributes in their alliance score well as well. Then the games are only a day away.

After Estia and Rory are fast asleep, Katniss is at Haymitch’s door, a bottle of whiskey, Haymitch’s favorite, in each hand. She kicks the door closed behind her and strolls over to the bed, tossing one of the bottles to Haymitch, who catches it. She slides under to covers next to him, then pops the cap of her bottle with ease, and takes a swig.

“So are you gonna tell me what’s going on or what?”

Haymitch had known Katniss would catch on that something was up. He’d just hoped, in vain, that she wouldn’t ask. He hates keeping it from her, even if it is to keep her safe.

“I’m not stupid, ya’know.” If these kids were about to die tomorrow, you’d be passed out drunk right now, probably. Hell, so would I. And this whole “Kaylee’s Alliance” would be a death sentence unless there was a way out. I know Lillian and Johanna are scheming something, and you’re probably in the loop.”

“She hasn’t told me anything.”

“You’re a shit liar, even when you’re sober.” Katniss says. “I wanna know what’s up. I can’t go home and tell my best friend I killed his brother.”

“It’s not your fault if he dies.”

“It might as well be! Am I also gonna half to go tell the Benders that both their daughters died on my watch?!"

“They’re gonna be fine, okay! Johanna’s got things planned out.”

“And why didn’t you tell me this earlier?!”

“She told me not to tell you. She thinks you’re a loose cannon.”

“And you don’t trust me?”

“I didn’t wanna risk messing anything up! If I told you, and Jo found out, we could be cut from the plan! Hell, maybe Rory and Estia too! I didn’t like not telling you, but I wanted to keep you all safe!”

Katniss opens her mouth to respond, but then closes it. She ponders Haymitch’s words for a moment, but then accepts defeat. She shuffles over on the bed, leaning into Haymitch.

“Can Johanna save them?” She asks.

“Yes.” Haymitch says, faking his complete and total confidence in this plan. Katniss sighs.

“I trust you. And I’m too tired to argue with you.”

Within minutes, she falls asleep against Haymitch’s chest.

***

The arena is unlike anything Haymitch has ever seen before. Later, Caesar and Claudius Templesmith will tell them it’s based off of a pre-disaster city called New York. As the tributes rise to their platforms, they are met with a disorienting display of lights, surrounding them from all sides. In the center of the circle the platforms make, sits the glamorous, shiny Cornucopia, overflowing with supplies. The entire room of mentors, in which Haymitch and Katniss sit, hold their breath as the clock counts down. 5..4...3...; Haymitch squeezes her hand; 2...1...

And then all hell breaks loose.

For the first time ever, the Twelve tributes dash towards the Cornucopia instead of away from it. Katniss can barely watch. Estia and Rory zigzag as they run towards their destination, avoiding the other tributes. A Two tribute takes down Marnisha, the Three tribute, but she is soon avenged by Quinnith, the boy from Three. Carver, the Eleven boy, gets cornered by a career, and its too late to save him. But they are the only two casualties of Kaylee's Alliance and they kill most of the others who don't have the sense to run from them. Eight remain: Estia, Rory, Acocia and Marcus from Seven, Dana and Luke from Four, Quinnith from Three, and Clementine from Eleven. Now that the bloodbath is over, the breath the mentors were collectively holding is let out, at least for now. It soon turns to anger and sadness, rage from the mentors of fallen tributes outside Kaylee's Alliance, and tears from Addia and Lorcas, the Three mentors, and empty eyes from Chaff and Seeder, District eleven's mentors. But for now, the most dangerous part for Estia and Rory is over, hopefully.

They spend most of the day watching the screen, but noone else dies from Kaylee's alliance. Soon, it will be only them left. Then, it'll get problematic. Haymitch hopes this plan gets put into action soon.

Then the lights go out. Not just in the arena, but the entire capitol. The room they're in erupts into chaos, and Haymitch is glad he was near Katniss when it happened. He clings to her, not wanting to loose her in the darkness. Then there's a tug on his arm, and Johanna's familiar voice, and they're being taken away, into an aircraft, and Haymitch still doesn't know what exactly is going on.

And so it begins.

***

{Epilogue-Ten Years Later}

Years later, Katniss and Haymitch live in a cottage on the edge of their settlement, near the forest, similar to their home in District Twelve. It's taken years to recover from the deadly and destructive stand between the Capitol and the districts. They live in what used to be District Seven, the most developed region of regrowing Panem. Things are rebuilding, and life is slowly getting back to normal. Lillian and Johanna are still wrapped up in politics, but Katniss and Haymitch have untangled themselves from all that. Being with Lillian, with Johanna...it's a grim reminder of all the death they've seen, the friends they've lost. In this peaceful town, it's easy to forget. Almost forget.

Haymitch is off to the market, leaving Katniss at home with their daughter. Aliadna Rue Abernathy.

Haymitch wasn't even sure if they'd be able to have kids. Ali had been a surprise, their little miracle. Aliadna had been just what they'd needed, a beacon of happiness to shine away the dark demons that haunted them both. She's four, now.

The market reminds Haymitch of the hob, except much brighter: it's out in the sun, booths set up in the center of town, smiles and warm greetings from all the vendors. They no longer need to live in fear of peacekeepers invading their trading space.

Haymitch gets the usual, bread, milk, a bundle of bananas, stops to chat with Prim at her dairy booth. He grabs a bag of cookies, the kind Aliadna loves, and is about to leave when a toy stand catches his eye.

It's a display of dolls, all handstitched. Haymitch takes a quick glance at his coin purse before looking up to address the vendor.

She sees his face and her eyes go wide.

"Mr. Abernathy."

Haymitch groans inwardly. You'd think ten years would be enough for people to forget his face.

"No, sir, I'm sorry. It's just, I'm from Twelve, I met you once as a young girl. My name is Miette. You... bought flowers from me once."

And now Haymitch remembers. That little girl, same age as Aliadna then, and her little booth next to her mother's. He remembers the light in her eyes when he gave her those gold coins.

"I just..." Miette continues, "You didn't know this, but the money you gave me, it was too generous. It kept my family alive for many months. I just never got to say... thank you."

She glances down at her array of dolls, suddenly realizing Haymitch's original purpose for approaching her stand.

"Oh, please take one! Whichever one you like! I heard through the grapevine you and Katniss have a daughter now. I'm sure she'll love one of these."

Haymitch ponders this exchange when he walks home, doll in tow. It's behind them, all that past is behind them. It still haunts them, and they'll never recover from the violence they saw, the friends they lost. But Miette, a girl whose life may have been doomed, has her entire life to live, happy. She never had to have her name put in those god forsaken bowls. She no longer has to fight for a meal, go cold at night. And that is the life the rebels have given to the youth of Panem. And little Aliadna will never have to know the pain and suffering her parents went through. They'll tell her the better parts, like the flowers, the kiss by the pen, even a sugar-coated story of their first kiss. She doesn't need to know about the scars on her mother's hand. She doesn't need to know about that time Haymitch had to dunk her in a bathtub to save her life. All she needs to know is her parents love her. And they have given her this life, a better life than either of them ever had.

And after all they've been through, that's enough.

**Author's Note:**

> okay, i'd like to apologize for ending so soon, without really going over how the rebellion happened. I just really lost my muse for this piece and instead of stumbling through it and ruining what i already had, i just decided to cut to the epilogue. 
> 
> I'd like to thank Addia for reading this and being very upset with me when Kaylee died because I knew I'd done my job right.
> 
> I may or may not do a sequel/follow up. There's a 50% chance I'll do a Kaylee/Lillian oneshot, and about a 10% chance i'll do a sequel narrated by Prim telling the story of the rebellion.
> 
> Again, thank you for reading, sorry for the sub-par ending!!
> 
> <3, neytah


End file.
